


A Different Kind of Alive

by ValmureEld



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Anatomy, Coma, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValmureEld/pseuds/ValmureEld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes touch doesn't have to be human to work miracles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of Alive

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea after Monday's episode "Skin". The way the woman at the end sought and then held Kennex's hand when they found her got me thinking.

No one came. When detective John Kennex got shot in the line of duty and almost died, no one came to sit at his side in the hospital. He was in a coma, they said. Didn't know if he'd wake up. And no-one from the department had enough time to watch over him. 

“He needs some kind of contact. The warmth, the touch of another human being can bring someone back.” his doctor said to Dorian, who was assigned to John no matter what. He was to report Kennex's condition to the department. He didn't. He just listened to the Doctor's prognosis, thanked him, sent the information back in the form of an email, and went to sit at John's bedside. 

No one came, but Dorian stayed. For a long while he just watched John's heartbeat tick across his visual display. The constant beeping from the hospital machine was an irritant so he'd turned the monitor to silent, contenting himself with watching John's oxygen levels and pulse through his own sensors. John didn't wake up, and Dorian didn't leave. 

No-one tried to make him leave, either. He needed no food, no rest, and had no duties until John was back on his feet. One doctor who had worked with a DRN surgical assistant in the past offered to watch John so Dorian could shut down for a while—a process recommended to all DRNs so that they could process and compartmentalize the emotional data gathered during the day. Dorian politely declined, and the doctor didn't push it. He just had a portable battery pack sent to John's room, so Dorian wouldn't have to go back to the station to re-charge. DRNs had their own power generators, of course, but it was better for them to run on batteries once in a while to give the generator a rest. Dorian appreciated the gesture. 

Still John didn't wake up. Dorian read to him, told him about the updates in the case he was receiving electronically, and when he ran out of things to say he would read articles and statistics about coma patients. Everything he read pointed back to the same idea—John needed a human's touch. To feel the skin, the heat, the pulse of another human to know he wasn't the last one around. He needed someone living to hold his hand. 

Dorian could simulate a pulse, should the need arise, but he did not like to do it. Faking vital signs for the sake of appearing alive took away from the gentle hum and the electric warmth that signaled his functional status. He felt alive as he was, and did not feel the need to pretend he was human when he wasn't. But John was human. And alive. And he knew if he tried to fake a pulse John would be the first one to notice and turn away from him because of it. 

Dorian sat quietly for many days, many hours before he decided it couldn't hurt. Reaching out a large, hopeful hand, he slipped it under Kennex's limp one and closed his fingers around it, careful of the IV port. John's hand was 97.2 degrees and his pulse, measured at 65 bpm was queitly detectible in the flesh Dorian clasped gently. 

John's fingers twitched for the first time since the coma began, and Dorian sat forward, sending a signal to the doctor's hand-held data pad. “Come on John, you've been sleeping long enough.” he encouraged, squeezing the detective's hand. The fingers twitched again, and then closed. Dorian smiled, turning to face the doctor when he entered, holding up the hand now firmly clasping his own. “He's responding!” 

After three weeks of nothing, John woke up. When he did, Dorian was in standby at his bedside, the DRN's eyes closed and functional processes at a minimum while he processed everything for the first time since the coma began. John looked up at his partner, then down at the hand that was still closed around his own. The warmth radiating from the synthetic skin was pleasant, and the gentle hum coming from the power core located in the center of Dorian's chest was just as real as the heartbeat that flowed to meet it.


End file.
